Faith
by Victoria Quynn
Summary: A McFadden brother confronts his beliefs at Christmas time.


Faith

Cleo Wheeler walked a few steps ahead of Ford McFadden at the Christmas fair in Angels Camp. Decorations abounded in red, green, gold, and silver, and at every booth vendors hawked their wares. Mindful of only a few shopping days left until the reindeer left the North Pole, crowds queued two and three deep in some places. Whether red and white poinsettias, carols sung by a choir on a stage set in the center of the rows of booths, or fragrant pine boughs hung on street lights, the teens' senses reveled in the sights, sounds, and smells of the season.

Cleo grinned as she spied a line for photos with Santa at the end of the street. She waited the couple of seconds for Ford to catch up. When he did not, she looked over her shoulder. She saw him listening intently to the choir.

Ford closed his eyes as a gorgeous rendition of "Silent Night" filled his being. This particular arrangement, with only a single guitar for accompaniment, would be perfect for his family. The high harmony descant entranced him as he imagined a duet of his tenor and his sister-in-law Hannah's soprano soaring high above the rest to welcome the Prince of Peace. As the hymn ended, he applauded and made a mental note to ask his older brother Crane about getting music for it and possibly practicing it for church, if not this year then next.

"Ford?"

Pulled back to the present, the sound of his name startled him. "Huh?"

Cleo nodded down the row. "Let's get a picture of us with Santa."

He noticed the long line of mostly parents and young children waiting on the jolly old elf. "Um …" He hesitated. "Wouldn't you rather listen to the choir instead?"

"If you want to. Maybe the line will be shorter when they're done."

After a few more songs, the carolers departed the stage and set-up began for the next act. Cleo tried again. "Let's get on the line for Santa now before it gets any longer. I haven't had my picture taken with him since I was little. It'll be fun, and we can get two copies so we'll each have one."

Ford pursed his lips. Again, he paused. Looking down one row of booths in the opposite direction of Santa, he suggested, "Uh, how about we look back there?"

"We already looked there. We were headed toward Santa, not away from him." Cleo wore a puzzled expression. "I'd really like us to have a picture with him. Don't you want to?"

"Not really."

"Why?"

"Because I just don't want to! Isn't that reason enough?!"

Cleo jumped at his annoyed tone.

Ford turned sheepish. "I'm sorry, Cleo. I really don't want to do it." He thought on his feet, offering, "But I'll wait with you so you can."

"Ford McFadden, why do you have to be so … stubborn!" Her momentary anger disappeared into welling eyes threatening to overflow. "What's the harm? It's just a silly picture with a fake Santa."

Ford responded with downcast eyes. Looking up, his gaze met hers. He spoke barely above a whisper. "I can't."

Cleo teared up. "I don't why it's such a big deal to you. I'm going to find my brother and go home with him."

~~00oo00~~

Ford stared at his dinner as the usual buzz hurtled around him. Brian argued they should contract as snow plowers for the highway department, Adam countered their old truck might not be reliable in mountain snow, and both looked to Crane for the feasibility of the idea. Daniel alternated arguing with Evan about the high school basketball team's chances in the winter tournament and discussing new melodies with Crane, in between Crane's calculating with his older brothers whether the expense of a newer truck and snow plow combination would be offset enough by the possible income it would generate. Guthrie told Hannah his latest jokes, and she grimaced at one of them, telling him to watch his language, and added her two cents that extra income was good. Somewhere in there, Daniel and Evan both volunteered to drive the not-yet-decided-on new truck and snow plow, not wanting Brian to have all the fun. In the midst of it all, Ford went unnoticed.

As everyone dispersed to various tasks after dinner, Ford put on his jacket and went to the barn. Grabbing a curry comb, he started brushing Diablo, Evan's prized horse. Not that Diablo needed extra grooming – his coat already gleamed like no other – but it was something mindless to do.

He had screwed up and hoped Cleo would not stay mad at him. He really liked her, and they had become, if not a couple, close friends, which was good enough for now. She was a once or twice weekly fixture at the Circle Bar 7, and her intense shyness matched Ford's. They had found common ground, though, chinking away at each other's outer shells to share smiles and fun times with ordinary activities. A ranch kid herself, she enjoyed their "dates" of feeding stock, mucking out stalls, and repairing tack – tasks she did not have to do at home what with her big-time rancher daddy's having ranch hands to run his place.

He had enjoyed the holiday fair, up to the business about pictures with Santa. It was even his suggestion they go. He had arranged a ride with Crane to pick her up, and the plan was to drop her off on their way home. Later, in response to Crane's query about where Cleo was and why the plan had changed, Ford had mumbled some excuse about her not feeling well and going home early with her brother. It was sort of the truth, so no guilt about lying. After Crane questioned further and seemed satisfied with Ford's answers that there was no need to worry about Cleo, they had driven home in the usual companionable silence he and his brothers usually shared. Check that. Maybe Crane had. Ford was awash in guilt and what-ifs.

"Evan's gonna have a fit if you brush that horse's hide off."

The statement, though quiet, startled Ford.

Adam came closer, squeezing his younger brother's shoulder. "Calm down. I won't bite." He waited while Ford caught his breath. "Tell me what's going on."

It was an invitation, Ford knew, not an order. He deflected. "I guess Diablo's done." He moved on to the next horse down the row. "Nothing's going on. I'm fine."

Adam sat on a hay bale. "Ford, come here." That was an order.

"Uh, really, I'm fine."

"Ford."

Uh oh. Okay. Time to face Adam, for whatever reason. Younger brother put away the curry comb and sat opposite the family's eldest. He tried to sound as nonchalant as possible. "What?"

"I just got a call from Mrs. Wheeler. She said Cleo came home this afternoon upset, but wouldn't say anything else. She was concerned and wanted to know what happened."

Ford listened. "Oh."

Adam raised a brow. "Oh? Is that all you have to say?"

Younger brother shrugged. "Uh huh."

Okay, Adam thought, Ford could be monosyllabic when he was busy with chores or homework, or when he was trying to hide something. Time for further explanation.

"I talked to Crane. He said you said Cleo didn't feel well and went home early with her brother."

"Uh huh."

"So she wasn't upset?"

"Well ..."

"Ford."

"Yeah?"

Adam let out a breath. He was not known for his patience, and for some reason the two youngest in the family were best at stringing him along verbally. Older brother calmed himself. "Okay, one more time. Why was Cleo upset?"

Ford knew he had better be honest. Not wanting to be grounded, he spoke matter-of-factly. "I didn't want to do something she wanted to do."

Adam closed his eyes and counted to five in his head. "Okay, what didn't you want to do?"

"Take a picture with Santa."

Adam sighed. "Come on, Ford, you can do better than that."

Now Ford sounded annoyed. "That's it. She really wanted us to take a picture with Santa and I didn't want to."

Adam frowned. "Why not? It's not that big a deal."

Ford blurted out, "The line was long. I didn't feel like waiting. I wanted to hear the next choir. I …"

"Stop rambling." Adam rubbed a hand over his face. "Just tell me why."

Ford gulped. His voice was low. "You know why."

Adam squinted. "I do?"

"Uh huh."

Older brother shrugged. "Sorry, but if it's something I'm supposed to know, I must've forgot. Enlighten me."

Ford's tone turned somber, his voice barely audible. "You remember when I was five, that last Christmas …"

The wheels turned in Adam's head to no avail. He shook his head. "Sorry, but … go on."

"I was supposed to be asleep but was all excited about Santa coming? I got up, but then I saw Mom and Daddy putting everything under the tree?"

Adam thought, why were these questions? It was obvious it pained Ford to recall this. Okay, patience, McFadden. Stay with him. "Keep going."

Ford's eyes threatened to spill. "And the next Christmas, the first without … You asked what I wanted Santa to bring me, and I told you Santa wasn't real."

Adam's eyes lit up. Of course! He continued Ford's narrative. "And you told me why, and I tried to get you to change your mind, but you weren't having any of it. So I told you not to tell Daniel, Evan, and Guthrie, and they'd find out in their own time."

"Uh huh."

Adam moved to the bale alongside Ford and pulled him close. "Buddy, that was a long time ago. Why couldn't you just take a picture with Santa for Cleo? Sometimes us guys have to give in to things we think are silly, just because." He smiled. "We do what we have to do to preserve the peace. You see Hannah and me doing it all the time."

"I know."

"Then, why?"

Ford shrugged. "Santa's not real and I guess I didn't see the fun in it that Cleo did. That's not what Christmas is about."

Adam's eyes went wide. "Oookay. But there are a lot of ways to celebrate, and Santa's just one part of it. I didn't know you felt that strongly about it."

Ford reflected for a moment before speaking. "Because of what you said when I was little, I played along for everybody else, but it didn't feel right. I don't know why. And as I've gotten older, it seems like one big commercial, and Santa's in all the ads. It's like everybody's forgotten what it's all about."

Adam grinned. "You been talking to Crane?"

"No. Why?"

"He went through a phase like that when he was a little older than you but settled down after a while." Adam ruffled Ford's hair. "Buddy, it's okay to have your feelings, but don't take everything so seriously. It was only a picture."

Ford looked sheepish. "I know."

Adam shivered. "Let's go in. It's getting cold out here."

They rose. Suddenly, Ford panicked. "Adam, please don't tell anybody, especially Mrs. Wheeler."

~~00oo00~~

The next morning Brian McFadden flipped pancakes with the ease of a seasoned pro. At each snap of his wrist, he said, "Ho!", eventually working up to "Ho, ho, ho!"

Daniel poured orange juice. "It's not Christmas yet, Bri. What's with the Santa talk?"

Brian grinned. "It's not just Santa talk, Dan'l. It was pillow talk last night with …"

"Whoa! Enough, Brian!" Hannah raised a brow. "We don't need to hear about your conquests at breakfast."

The second oldest winked. "Don't worry, Hannah. Guthrie's heard this one already. He was awake when I came in last night."

The youngest laughed. "Yeah, Hannah, ho, ho, ho!"

Hannah rolled her eyes.

"So what's with the ho, ho, hos, anyway?" Crane asked as he poured coffee, ignoring Hannah's 'don't encourage him' look.

Brian brought a platter of pancakes to the table. "Brother, let's just say I was practicing. Jeannie was frettin' her pretty little head about her Santa cancelling for the Christmas party she's in charge of, so I volunteered to play it to get her to calm down and enjoy herself."

Adam unwrapped a stick of butter and placed it on the butter dish. "And you're really gonna do it?"

"Yup. I want to see Jeannie again, so …"

The oldest agreed, "That's a good reason." He considered. "You'll make a good Santa. Might want to wear a pillow in front to make it look more authentic."

"Bri'll be great. I'd love to watch. Can we come?" Evan asked.

Brian started, "Well, now that you mention it …"

"Uh oh, you just opened a can of worms, Ev," Adam said.

Brian continued, "We could all get into it. Crane and Dan'l with the music, Hannah as Mrs. Claus – if Adam doesn't mind, of course – Ford and Guthrie as elves."

Ford grimaced at the idea of himself as an elf. Briefly looking around at his family members' reactions – there were none – he met Adam's gaze for a second before dropping his eyes back to his breakfast.

Evan asked, "So what would I do?"

Brian shrugged. "I'm sure there'll be plenty to keep you and Adam busy."

"Okay, I'm in." Evan grinned and added, "As long as I'm not so busy I miss you playing it up, Bri. Can't wait to see how the kids react to you. That'll be the best part."

Hannah enthused, "Good, a family project. I've been trying to figure a way to do something where we could give back."

Daniel smiled. "And this one just dropped into our laps, pretty as you please."

Brian laughed. "Yup, especially into mine!"

~~00oo00~~

Hannah wiped the breakfast dishes dry and put them up almost as fast as Adam could wash them. More companionable silence, except Hannah's mind worked overtime.

She glanced at her husband. "Honey, is something bothering Ford?"

Without breaking his washing rhythm, he asked, "How do you mean?"

She shrugged. "He didn't eat much dinner last night and was quiet all through breakfast. And he's barely said two words since he came home yesterday from the fair, and then that phone call from Mrs. Wheeler. I'm just thinking something might be bothering him."

"I talked to him last night."

"And?"

Adam rinsed off his hands and grabbed a towel to dry them. "He asked me not to tell anybody."

"Is it something I can help with? I might have a different perspective than you guys."

Adam wrapped an arm around her. "I don't know. Maybe." First making sure no one was within earshot, Adam related to Hannah the details of his conversation with Ford from the night before. "Now, Mrs. McFadden, you'll have to spit shake and pinky swear you won't ever breathe a word of that to anyone."

Laughing and taking him literally, Hannah spit into her palm, shook hands with Adam, and joined pinkies before she put her arms around him. "Leave it to me, Mr. McFadden."

~~00oo00~~

Later that afternoon, Hannah arrived home from errands and found Ford curled up on the couch with a book. She sat on the coffee table and waited for him to look up. When he did, she asked, "What are you reading?"

He frowned. "MacBeth. We're reading it next in English class, so I thought I'd get it done over break."

Hannah smiled. "A man with a plan. Get it out of the way. Good idea. But …" She pulled a book out of her bag. "I went by the library today and saw this. Thought you might find it interesting, especially chapter seven."

Ford took the tome. "Legends of Christmas?" He leafed through it. "What's chapter seven?"

"Read it and see for yourself."

Hannah went into the kitchen as Ford dove into the designated chapter, titled, 'Yes, Virginia, There Is a Santa Claus.'

Hmm, what was this? A newspaper editorial, from 1897? Okay. He read further. 'Affected by the skepticism of a skeptical age.' He smiled. Things had not changed much in almost a hundred years. Heck, more than that. He had just read how Banquo seemed skeptical. Apparently, skepticism knew no age. Perhaps he could try to tone his down.

'Love, generosity, and devotion.' Yes, he believed in those and tried to practice them whenever possible. They made life richer. Their parents and then his older brothers had made sure they all knew them as basic principles to live by.

He scanned the rest of the chapter. It spoke to him; met him somewhere in a void; indeed, made the void come alive. He read it again, slower this time. Where was the sentence that really grabbed him? There it was. 'There would be no childlike faith then, no poetry, no romance to make tolerable this existence.'

Faith. That's what it came down to? But he had faith. Faith in his family, faith in their life together, faith in hard work, faith in the God he prayed to in church on Sunday. So, believing in Santa was an act of faith? He had never thought of it that way. Yes, he believed in certain things he could not see, things that had no substance but just were. Concepts perhaps, but they were not concrete. He could not put a quarter in a machine and make them materialize. He had to take them on faith.

He had had no belief in Santa since the age of five, not even skepticism. He. Just. Didn't. Exist. But, why? Because he had seen his parents putting gifts under the tree; things they later said were from Santa. Okay, so that snatched his little boy dreams of Santa Claus away from him. He remembered being hurt, disappointed in the very people he was supposed to have faith in. But not for long. The Santa dreams might have died, but not the faith in his parents. That returned with a vengeance, only to be shattered again so many months later when the very foundation of his and all his brothers' lives was destroyed, forever.

They had rebuilt their lives, their new normal. Time marched on, and a little boy's trusting faith returned, in different elders this time. He had always looked up to them, but they now held his very existence in their own fledgling hands.

So, bottom line, Santa might exist – indeed, according to the writer, did exist – but not as something one could see, but was as real as the love and devotion he took for granted from his family and which he also tried to give in return. His parents were Santa, but so had Santa been his parents? In faith, perhaps. Yes, in faith, love, and devotion, he reasoned, that was true.

~~00oo00~~

The morning of Christmas Eve, Brian stood in the living room bedecked in a Santa suit. "So what do you guys think? Could I pass for the real thing?"

Evan grinned. "With that pillow in front, you'll either laugh like a bowl full of jelly or have the little kids cuddling too close and falling asleep."

Crane joked, "That beard looks good on ya, Bri. Might want to keep it." Stroking his own whiskers, he continued, "I hear it attracts the girls."

Brian did not miss a beat. "Nah, trust me, the girls like a smooth face – something about it being soft as a baby's bottom. And to prove it, it's a fact I have more girls on my arm each week than you do, bro."

Daniel and Evan whistled. "Good one, Bri!"

"Maybe," Crane noted, "but I don't need to sample the whole store to know what I want."

Mrs. Claus-clad Hannah led the peanut gallery in cheering. "Score!"

Brian laughed. "Let's call a truce. It just comes down to different ways of appreciating the ladies, but appreciate them we do." He and Crane slapped a high-five.

Adam pulled Hannah close, addressing Brian. "Okay, ladies' man, let's be clear, you only get Mrs. Claus for a couple of hours, then I get her back."

Brian bowed low. "Of course, great and powerful older brother." He chuckled.

Adam looked at his watch. "Okay, enough silliness. Let's get this show on the road. Everybody ready?" He looked around. "Where are our elves?"

Guthrie and Ford looked up from the couch. The youngest spoke. "Right here, Adam. Are you blind?"

"Nope. Nobody's dressed as elves."

"Oh, okay." Guthrie donned a red and green Santa-type hat with bells at the pointed end. "Is this better?"

Adam nodded, then looked at Ford.

Blushing at the attention on him, Ford took in Guthrie's grinning face and looked at the elf cap in his lap. Ringing the bells on the hat, he tentatively put it on. It fit. He touched it. It felt good, even right.

Evan said, "Last one to the car has to do my chores tonight." He dashed out.

Daniel called after him, "Dream on, bro!" He and Crane picked up their guitar cases and followed Brian-Santa and Guthrie out the door.

Mrs. Claus and Adam held hands. Hannah regarded her hubby. "Last ones out the door. Do we get stuck with Evan's chores?"

Adam responded, "Nah." Noticing Ford's hesitancy, he urged, "Come on, Ford. Don't want to be late."

"Um …"

"What?"

"I was just thinking …" Ford seemed uncertain. "Well, do you think … I mean, would we be late if …"

Hearing Adam sigh, Hannah pinched his wrist hard to check him. In an encouraging tone, she asked, "If what, Ford?"

"Would we be too late if I called Cleo to go to the party and we picked her up on the way? Maybe if she still wanted a picture of us with Santa – well, Brian does look as real as Santa's gonna get."

Adam shared Hannah's smile and responded, "Great idea. We'll wait for you outside." As they started out the door, Adam reminded, "You might have to deal with Ev and his chores."

Ford lit up like a Christmas tree. "It'd be worth it."

-Fini.


End file.
